The Road Home
by AineMorrigan
Summary: It's been eight years since she was taken away from the parents who loved her. It's been eight years since House and Cameron have truly been happy. HouseCamOC COMPLETE
1. Reflections: Allie

**AN: I suck at writing fanfic, but I'm a huge House/Cameron fan and have apparently seen "The Deep End of the Ocean" one too many times. It's a WiP, and I totally just write as I go (which is a horrid idea when starting a story), but it's just for fun, so whatever. I love constructive criticism (I don't have time to find a beta, so I'm sure there will be some inconsistancies and grammar errors - though I will spell check and give it a once over) so don't hesitate to review!**

**The Road Home: Reflections**

I may have been pretty young when it happened, but I certainly wasn't young enough to forget. I can't ever let myself forget.

Each week in our house always began the same way. Mom would get up and come tell me to start getting ready. She'd then proceed to the bedroom, where she'd have to beat my dad out of bed with a pillow from the couch to cries of "Can't you call Cuddy and tell her I broke my other leg? Tell her you broke it during a rough night of sex and I had to be shot!" He never did win one of these morning battles.

I always loved going to work with my parents. When I stop and think about it, at the age of five I should have been more concerned with stuffed toys and blocks, but I never was. Each Monday we'd arrive in their office and I'd sit down in the conference room with everyone and listen, always fascinated, as my mom and dad discussed whatever case they were working on with my Uncle Chase and Uncle Eric. At the time I wasn't quite sure of all the big words they were using, but I clearly remember my dad telling me that being a doctor meant I'd get paid a lot of money for playing video games all day long, I should totally become one when I grew up! I wouldn't get to listen for long though, my Uncle Jimmy would usually arrive to escort me upstairs to the hospital's daycare center, where I would be subject to an endless array of arts and crafts and an idiotic lady who'd force us to sing songs with her all day long.

My dad would always remind me to "give them hell" before Uncle Jimmy could drag me away from the room. The daycare lady never did like me too much. I think the time I sang my dad's version of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" during sing-a-long time was what really put her off from thinking I was an innocent little child.

It was the day before my sixth birthday when it happened. It was a Friday morning and we were running late. I wasn't feeling well, so my dad decided to just let me sleep next door to the conference room, in his office, while everyone worked. Mom, Dad and the team were going on and on about some new patient that had just been transferred to their department - quite loudly at that, I remember wishing they'd keep their arguing down so I could actually fall asleep. A security guard ran into the conference room before I could actually do so. I was getting pretty agitated at this point, so I decided to go shut the door that joined the two rooms. The last thing I heard before I finally drifted off was my Uncle Eric telling the security guard to place his people at all the exits, before they could transfer the patient to the psych ward, he'd escaped. My mom stuck her head into the office and told me to stay exactly where I was and not to move, she'd be back in a minute.

Have you ever been startled out of a sound sleep? It's not pleasant, especially when there's a strange man crouched next to you, telling you to keep quiet or he'lll kill your mommy and daddy. Eight years later, as I think about that day, I wonder why I didn't scream. I could have screamed, or said something. All I remember is being so terrified that he really WOULD hurt my parents. Maybe I was too sick to think properly? I'm 14 years old now, and technically a genius...you would have thought even at that early age I would have done SOMETHING.

The man looked at me and said I was going to be his daughter now, that I would never see my old parents ever again. He picked me up and started walking towards the stairwell, eventually breaking into a run. When we got to the first floor, I think it finally hit me what was going on. I saw my dad standing near the elevators, and I saw him glance up with a look of horror on his face. I cried out to him, but it was too late. The last image I have of my dad was of him yelling at the top of his lungs, attempting to run after me (despite his handicap) and save me from this strange man.

He wasn't fast enough.


	2. MISSING: House

**The Road Home: Missing**

**MISSING**

**REWARD OFFERED**

**Name:** Alexandra Anne House

**Nickname:** "Allie"

**Age:** 6

**Height:** 4'0"

**Weight:** 80lbs

**Hair:** Auburn

**Eyes:** Blue

**Father:** Dr. Gregory House

**Mother:** Dr. Allison Cameron House

Alexandra Anne House was abducted from the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital on November 4th. Her kidnapper is believed to be Mr. David Manson, a patient that day at the PPTH facility who escaped during his transfer to the psychiatric ward of the hospital. His description is listed below.

If you have any information leading to this case, or spot Mr. Manson please immediately contact your local police department. He is believed to be armed and dangerous, please do not approach the suspect.

* * *

I wasn't always such a misanthrope.

For the longest time I wouldn't let anybody break the barrier I spent years building. I wasn't one for children, heart to heart talks or spilling feelings in general. Cuddy once asked me if I even HAD a heart, buried somewhere under all the sarcasim. I was beginning to wonder the same thing myself (though I'd rather sell my soul to lucifer than admit that to anyone) when Allison came along. Slowly, the barriers were washed away and I realized that change wasn't such a bad thing after all when you're with someone who accepts you - faults and all. We were married within the year.

Nine months later, my daughter Alexandra was born. I was aprehensive about having a child so soon into our relationship, but the first time she opened her bright blue eyes (it was like looking into a mirror) I knew I was in love. The heart I once questioned having was there all along. I no longer saw myself as the pathetic cripple. I was Gregory House - doctor, husband and father. For the first time in my miserable life, I was happy. I was able to walk down the halls of my work with a smile.

I see my little Allie's face everywhere. I can't go a block in Princeton without seeing her smiling face from one of the missing posters we had made up within hours of her abduction. Her little face stares at me from the photos on my desk. Some days I can't even look at Allison, they look so much alike. If it wasn't for this damn leg...this damn handicap that's taken over my life, she might still be here. I wasn't fast enough to tackle the bastard that grabbed her, and because of me - I have no idea if she's safe...if she's even still alive. I blame myself entirely, I had everything with Allison, I can't help but think she must hate me entirely. It's because of me that our child is gone, she sits and cries all day long because of me.

It's been eight years. I don't smile much anymore.


	3. All I've Ever Wanted: Allison

**The Road Home: All I've Ever Wanted**

I had everything I'd always wanted for myself. Since I was a child, there's only been three things I have ever wanted for my future:

1. To Become a Doctor

2. Get Married

3. Have Children

Marrying Brian had given me hope to accomplish all of those things, but he died shortly after we were married. I spent the rest of medical school devoted to number one on that list, and ONLY number one. I figured if I threw myself into my career, I could get myself to a point where I could forget the pain of knowing my husband was dead and just attempt to forget that number three would possibly never happen.

Everything changed when I met House - I fell, and I fell HARD. I admit I pushed things at first. On the night of our first disastrous date (which I also admit, I forced him into...more so for my needs than his) he told me I was damaged, that I needed someone to fix. He couldn't have been further from the truth. House was everything I secretly admired. He was a bold, cynical, blatantly honest (sometimes brutally) individual who had no shame in hiding anything from anyone. I was sick of being poor fragile Allison, the emotional goody two shoes...I wished I could have his strength. I just loved everything about the man, and I knew that deep under the layers of anger and frustration - there was a part of him that wanted to love someone again. I saw it in looks he'd give me (when he thought I didn't notice) from across the cafeteria, or the way he'd always hold the door open for me as we all left the conference room (I like to forget the part where he'd pass through the door next and fling the door shut behind him, causing either Chase of Foreman to get a face full of glass).

After a particular patient came to us, I got sick and tired of waiting for him to admit his feelings. I decided to play a nice game of "Moving On" with myself, even though I knew there was part of myself that was always going to pine for him. Okay, maybe I just wanted to show him I wasn't going to wait forever (though knowing myself I probably WOULD).

The patient that we were currently working on had given me a new set of problems to worry about. I was in his room during the time of his violent coughing attack. I had turned around to face him, to find he was coughing up blood. Before I could move out of the way, he managed to cough some blood right in my face - in my eye to be exact. This particular patient had AIDS. I froze where I was standing, in too much shock to move.

A couple of hours later, after cleaning myself up, I found myself sitting in the clinic. I was half listening as the doctor went over the procedures that were to follow, as I was handed a prescription to take, should the case be that I had contacted the virus. In two weeks I was to be tested for HIV and would go from there. I left the clinic and went up to the roof to contemplate the events that had taken place a couple of hours ago...or as House put it as I passed him on the way up, "To get all emotional and cry about what could possibly happen."

He really could be a bastard.

That night I did something pretty stupid. I had taken some meth off the patient who coughed on me, assuring him that once I had tested the drugs for any foreign substances, I was going to dispose of them. I sat for an hour before I realized I had two weeks before a diagnosis that could possibly spell the end to my life. To hell with goody two shoes Allison, I thought. I took his drugs and found myself calling up who at the time, I thought was Chase, for some company.

"COME OVER, RIGHT NOW," I had screamed into the phone, not waiting for an answer, then hanging up. I had other plans for him...I was going to jump his bones - make House jealous. It would be twenty minutes later, as I flung the door open, before I realized that I should have dialed a little more carefully in my drug induced haze.

House was standing at my door, looking at me with an expression of worry and complete shock on his face. What happened next is somewhat hard to recall, as the last thing I remember is feeling light-headed and passing out on my couch.

I woke up that morning, feeling like hell. The biggest shock of all though, was realizing that not only was I lying on the couch, but the pillow I thought I was resting my head on was not a pillow. I turned around and glanced up to see that I had my head resting in House's lap, that he had spent the entire night there with me.

We talked that morning, a lot. I don't remember exactly everything that we talked about, but I do know is that I knew right then that I was absolutely correct in thinking he had feelings for me. From that day on things changed between us - things changed with HIM. Every day he became a little nicer to Foreman and Chase, even left Cuddy stunned most days, to wonder where the cracks about her cleavage went. Sure, he was still the snarky king of sarcasm, but there was was a definite change. The entire hospital had seen it, and after catching House holding hands with me in the hallway the day my final HIV test had come back negative, thanked me profusely.

Cuddy actually fainted the morning he proposed. Always one to create a scene (and not great with the whole romantic thing), he had called Wilson down for a "patient consult" in the conference room, Cuddy had been there lambasting him for ordering a CT scan that was obviously unnecessary for someone with a simple headache. Not being one to talk House out of any outlandish diagnosis, I simply sat on my usual chair waiting for Wilson to arrive. When he got there, I suddenly found House making his way over to me from the whiteboard. He slowly got down on his good knee and reached for his pocket.

I've never seen a diamond that big in my entire life. Nor have I ever seen the eyes of three grown men bug out so far, or a dean of medicine manage to take out a whiteboard and two chairs as she passed out. Gregory House, Captain Misanthrope of the League of Diagnosticians had just asked me to marry him. I sat staring at him, with tears in my eyes until he made some crack about having two bum legs soon if I didn't at least give him an answer.

Nine months after our honeymoon, I gave birth to our daughter Alexandra Anne House. House had been next to me the entire delivery, scared out of his mind over the fact that HE was going to have to help raise a child, making sarcastic remarks about how messed up our daughter would become after having him as a father. He was sitting with me a couple hours after she was born, telling me how much money a good child psychologist is nowadays when they brought in Allie for us to hold. I knew from the look of sheer joy on his face as his little daughter opened her bright blue eyes and looked right up at him, that he was going to be just fine.

* * *

The sparkle in my husbands eyes is gone, replaced by the pain that was present from the first day I met him. I blame myself entirely for it. If I had only remembered to lock the office door, upon rushing out of his office that day, my sweet little daughter would still be here with us. I know he must blame me, who wouldn't? It's gotten to the point now, where he can barely look me in the eyes some days. He goes off by himself for hours now, to sit on the roof, talk to Wilson - anything to get away from me I guess. He tells me that he still loves me and will be there for me through everything, but I can't bring myself to believe him.

The police told us they are doing everything they can, but the former patient who's their current suspect must have given us a false name when we admitted him that morning. I don't know what to do with myself in the meanwhile. I took leave of absence from work but found sitting around the house, looking at pictures probably wasn't a good way to deal with things. I eventually went back to work and once again threw myself into my job to try and overcome the stress I was under. I don't go out at night anymore though, I find myself sitting with Greg, crying for my daughter, crying over the fact that I don't even know if she's alive. That morning when I woke up, I had all I've ever wanted for myself and my life. In the span of a couple of hours, all of those dreams had been destroyed.

Eight years later I still find myself sitting on the couch crying for her - this time, alone. We're still married, but Greg chooses now to simply move on. He's put up another wall, to show people that he's accepted things, accepted the fact that she's probably gone for good. I know he's hurting though, I can see it. We barely talk to each other anymore, we've become the couple that Wilson and Julie once were, before their divorce.

I can't help but wonder what will happen if I can't snap out of this depression? Will we end up like Wilson and Julie?


	4. Mommie and Daddy Dearest: Allie

**AN: Thank you for all the positive reviews! I've got a good idea of where I want to take this story now too. School has been keeping me busy, but I'm going to try and keep the updates frequent. Again, constructive criticism is my best friend, don't hesitate to drop some suggestions or berate me for my horrid grammar, I won't mind. I'm still trying to get a hang of writing House, it's so damn hard! Anybody got any pointers? **

* * *

**The Road Home: Mommie and Daddy Dearest**

I guess I should consider myself one of the lucky ones. Statistics say that there are very few abducted children that make it home alive. I'm alive all right, but I'm not home - where does that leave me?

I don't really know what I expected the day I was abducted, but I certainly didn't expect to live past the night. I'd seen the news, I knew what death was (you learn that lesson early when both your parents are doctors). David, the man I'm suppose to call "Dad" now, tied me up and locked me in the trunk of his car. I knew I was in for it. The most shocking event of all though, was when the trunk opened after a short fifteen minutes.

He didn't kill me.

Instead, I was lead into a beautiful home, in what seemed to be the middle of the woods. I recognized it immediately as the large wooded park-neighborhood that had been the site of a get together my Aunt Lisa held just last weekend. It had been a fun Saturday, everyone showed up and applauded when it ended with my dad being pushed into the duck pond by my Uncle Jimmy. Little did I know the same area would begin what would be my own eight years of personal hell.

Inside the house, I met a lady called "Marie". I was suppose to call her "Mom". I wondered immediately why anybody in their right mind wouldn't question a strange child being brought into their home? Marie led through the large house, and up a set of stairs. She opened the door to an extremely large room, filled to the brim with everything someone my age could have ever wanted. In my short six years, I have never seen so many toys and stuffed animals before. What kind of mentally ill people abduct a child and treat them like THIS? I was soon to find out.

David stormed into the room, pulled me by the arm and sat me down, hard, on the bed. I was to be their new daughter, he said. Marie nodded at me and left the room. David explained that Marie had lost her baby a month prior, and I was to take the place of the child they'd never have. He said they would give me anything I wanted, but to know I would never be allowed outside this house, under any circumstance. I was to be home schooled, and kept away from the outside world. He promised that they would treat me as if I was their own.

It was when I told him that they would never be my parents, EVER, that it started. To this day I remember how much it hurt, when he grabbed me by the hair, slapped my face and threw me up against the wall. I was six years old, he said...HE was the boss. He said I'd learn to mind him, or pay the price - If I had any sense in my head, I'd learn quickly that in his house, things go HIS way. Another slap to the face and he left the room. I immediately ran to open the door, but for my efforts, only received the sound of a door locking.

I clutched my right forearm, where a bruise steadily began to form. Taking a few steps backwards from the door, I remember taking a few unsure glances around what was to become my new 'home'. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed to capacity with toys and books. Another wall held a large television set, and what seemed to be the largest collection of dvds ever. I spied a large bed off to one corner and walked towards it. Lying atop the bed was a small teddy bear, dressed in a doctor's lab coat and scrubs.

I had grabbed that teddy bear, clung on for dear life and curled myself up onto a corner of the bed. I cried myself to sleep that night, for the first time. The first time yes, but it definitely wouldn't be the last.


	5. Downward Spiral: House

**AN: Again, thank you for the great reviews. Now that i've got this chapter out of the way, the actual conclusion to the story can pick up a bit.**

**The Road Home: Downward Spiral**

Having something taken away from you, that means the world, is always hard. When that something is your child though, it's enough to destroy life as you know it.

Allison was the one who showed me, taught me, about hope. It was when she lost that hope, that the downward spiral started.

Allison would get up every morning, full of hope for the day to come, full of hope that this indeed, would be the day they found her daughter. Each night, I'd hold her as she cried. It continued this way for years. I knew it would only be so long before something killed that hope, and the complete breakdown would start.

A month before what would be Alexandra's fourteenth birthday, it happened. A fourteen year old came into the clinic that day, worried parents in tow. The girl was exhibiting some strange symptoms and our team went to work trying to save her. Three days later, as Allison watched from the doorway, the girl died. You can't save them all, I always told her.

She fell apart.

I don't know what to say to her anymore. It hurts to do so, but most days I just leave her sitting on the couch, crying. She's taken another leave of absence, and now ceases to function. Foreman and Chase take turns sitting with her during the days, I've given them time off to do so. They don't mind, it hurts them just as much to see Allison go through this. I know she thinks that I've put Alexandra aside and gone on with my life, but it's not true. How do I tell her, CAN I tell her, that I spend most of my free time alone, trying to figure out how I can pull her out of her depression? How do I tell her that it DOES still bother me, that more days than none I sit by myself on the hospital roof, crying for my daughter? How do I tell her that I'm afraid I'm going to lose her now, too?

* * *

Today would have been my little girl's fourteenth birthday. It's hard to believe that eight years have passed since that nightmare of a morning. Chase arrived this morning, paperwork in tow, to keep an eye on things while he worked. He glared at me as I kissed Allison goodbye, I know he thinks I'm a bastard for leaving her every morning. I long to sit down, tell her everything I've been keeping to myself the past eight years, but I don't.

Gregory House doesn't fall apart...at least while anybody is watching.


	6. Letting Go: Allison

**The Road Home: Letting Go**

She would have been fourteen years old today. I wonder what she would have been like? Would she look just like I did at her age? Would we have been best friends, like a lot of mothers and daughters are? I knew I'd never know, and that thought alone killed me. I know I should have pulled myself together, found a way to cope, moved on...but I didn't.

I chose the cowards way out.

* * *

The devastation I saw in House's eyes, upon regaining consciousness in the hospital, is something I would love dearly to forget. I wasn't conscious when Chase found me in the bathroom early this evening, nor was I awake to see my husband freak out when he arrived home a few moments later. It seemed so easy at the time, as I sat there with a bottle of his vicodin in my hand - take a few dozen, and your problems are gone.

I didn't realize, in the middle of my depression, that there were so many people who would have been destroyed by my actions. All of this time, I've been blind to the fact that they've been here all along, ready to catch me when I fell, wanting to help, waiting for me to ask for it. I guess it takes doing something incredibly stupid to pull you out of the hole you've been trying so desperately to bury yourself in.

It also brought forth something I thought I'd never see - emotion in House. I woke to him by my bedside, holding my hand, with something very uncharacteristic littering his face - tears. Upon finding I'd regained consciousness, he pulled me into an embrace. Over and over, he repeated the same phrase.

"I'm sorry...I'm so, so sorry."

For the first time since Allie was taken, I had my husband back - and then some. We stayed up that night, talking...talking about everything we'd both held in since this nightmare began eight years ago. I learned that he blamed himself for the abduction, for not being able to catch the man that ran off with her. We shared a laugh when he learned that I'd been blaming myself eight years, for not locking his office door. I knew I had the old House back, when he carefully moved my IV lines aside, and climbed into the bed with me, laughing that it was so like me to take the blame for everything - was I trying for some type of medal?

As he lied beside me that night, we also came to one very important decision - we needed to BOTH let Allie go.

We'd both spent eight years being absolutely miserable. We decided that even though we'd both held out hope for so long that she'd be found, we both needed to let her go and get on with our lives...it was the only thing that would begin the process. It would be a small ceremony, we decided, just those that had been close to Allie (Cuddy, Wilson, Foreman and Chase) and we'd hold it at a local park that Allie loved to visit.

* * *

It was a cold, cloudy day that we gathered. House and I had spent hours after my hospital discharge, pouring over photos of Allie. We'd selected a photo for each of them.

Chase's photo was a capture of Allie and himself, in the pathology lab. He'd been in there for hours, teaching her to run gels, and she'd had a ball. Being so smart, even from the age of five, she'd mastered one or two of the tests. Allie had been standing, attempting to recalibrate a centrifuge,with Chase looking on in amusement, as I snapped it.

Foreman's photo was one taken by House. We had stopped by Foreman's one afternoon to pick up some papers, and found him outside working on his car. House and I had gone in to grab the papers, while Allie stayed to watch. House told me, as I went to put the papers in our car, that he'd walked back and found Eric teaching Allie how to hot-wire a car. He had immediately grabbed his camera phone and snapped a photo of it. I came back just in time to see Eric whisper something in Allie's ear, and hear my little girl say, "Yo dawg, why you be taking mad photos of myself while I'm trying to steal me some wheels?" I'd never seen House laugh so hard.

Cuddy's photo was taken at the hospital's Halloween party, the last one Allie had attended prior to her abduction. Being House, he'd decided to talk his daughter into dressing like Cuddy for her party costume. I didn't know it till the day of the party, but House had taken her shopping. My daughter appeared at the party, wearing a linen suit, almost identical to one Cuddy wore a couple times per week. House had stuffed a small bra with huge blown up balloons and gave it to Allie to wear under her suit. He'd even gone as far as to make a little hospital ID badge for her that read "Alexandra Funbags, M.D." Cuddy was in stitches as soon as she spied her goddaughter at the party. We'd taken a picture of them sitting together on Cuddy's office desk.

Wilson's photo was one that I'd taken myself. James had volunteered to pick Allie up from the hospital daycare one day when House, the team and I were particularly swamped with work from a new case. I'd gone to Wilson's office when we were finished, and walked in to a rather amusing sight. Wilson was sitting on his desk, moaning about something. Allie was dressed in his lab coat and tie and she was walking back and forth in front of him (well, trying to walk, as the lab coat was longer than her). I'd kept silent as Wilson spied me watching from the door. Allie paced back and forth with a file and a stethoscope in her ears. _"So, what seems to be the problem Uncle Jim...err Mr. Wilson? Are you HAVING a real problem, or are you simply here for some sort of fix? A real problem you say, let me guess. You're here because you've got a very nasty cold and you're convinced you've got the plague. I've been a doctor for twenty years - you've got a simple case of the FLU, before I can continue though, I need a consult. Let me page another doctor. Now, WHERE IS MY GAMEBOY?"_ Wilson finally gave in to laughter, as he can't resist when someone that young starts mocking his best friend. Being the Kodak mom I was, I grabbed my camera out of my purse for a photo. Allie had jumped up next to her godfather, or "Uncle Jimmy" as she called him, threw her arms around him with her little cheek smashed up against his,and I'd gotten a great photo.

The last photo added, was a photo of myself, House and Allie. Cuddy had taken it at a picnic we'd attended in this very park not long before she was taken. House and I were sitting next to each other on a picnic bench, with Allie sitting on the table behind us. She's thrown her arms around both of us to pose for the photo. We all looked so happy...the sight alone brought a few tears to my eyes.

I looked around at our friends who had gathered here with us today, each with photo in hand. I stepped aside and reached into the car, bringing back with me six balloons in Allie's favorite colors, pink and black. I handed one each to everyone. House then said a few words. I couldn't help but cry a bit as I watched him tell the group that we were here today to say goodbye to Allie - that even though she'd be in our hearts, we all needed to let this go.

I then stepped forward and asked each member to tie their photo to their balloon and together, we'd let them go.I'd also told them I'd made additional copies of each photo, and I had them back in my office, for them to take home. We gathered together, once we were all ready.

I looked over at House, and smiled, when I saw for once he'd actually decided to be open with his emotions. Tears streamed down his face (I guess it didn't matter, as Wilson, Eric and Chase were actually displaying the same emotions) as he said the following words:

"Gone, but never forgotten..."

The sun broke through the sky momentarily, as six splotches of pink and black slowly inhabited the air above us, and floated off on their descent into the heavens above. We all shared an embrace and walked back to our respective cars. We'd let her go.

* * *

* * *

Less than one hundred yards away, a small auburn haired, blue eyed teenager stared sadly out of a window. She gave a small smile as she watched a cluster of pink and black balloons fly up into the sky from behind a cluster of trees. 


	7. Be Careful What You Wish For: Allie

**AN:** All these positive reviews have kept me going with this story. Thank You! I'm working on the next part, and hope to have it up later tonight - I've gotta do SOMETHING since House isn't on (stupid Billboard Music Awards). I'm also hoping that I'll have this story wrapped up by next week, as it's finals and I won't have the time to write. Enjoy!

* * *

**The Road Home: Be Careful What You Wish For**

I turned fourteen years old yesterday.

They brought me a cake and told me to make a wish. Knowing that wishes obviously DON'T come true, I made one anyway...the same one I'd made every birthday for the past eight years. I spent the rest of the day sitting by the window, idly staring, wishing that I could be anywhere but here. I couldn't help but feel bad though, seeing the melancholy look on Marie's face as she watched me blow out the candles. I'm sure in the midst of everything, she must have known what I'd wished for.

No, I'm not suffering from a bout of Stockholm Syndrome, it's real pity. These people were obviously hurting, enough to where they needed to do something completely insane to achieve happiness. I'm also confused as to what I should be feeling. They treat me well, but there's also two sides to everything in this house. Marie is a kind lady, she showers me with everything. On my twelfth birthday, she managed to convince David I should be allowed outside with supervision. On my thirteenth birthday, she brought me home a beautiful thoroughbred stallion (whom I named Dante...the only fitting name I could think of, as he is my only true friend in my own personal level of hell) whom I could ride in their large backyard. I felt bad for her. On more than one occasion, she'd called me Sarah, who I assumed to be the daughter they'd lost. She was mentally ill, and probably didn't know any better. If I didn't miss my real family so much, I would have been more than willing to just put on a brave face and face my reality.

The other side though, is the one that I think about the most. It's the side I think about when I imagine myself running away from here forever. I try and keep my cool around Marie for her sake. David though? He's the one who stole me from my real parents, the one who isn't afraid to slap me around when I challenge everything he says. He said if It wasn't for his wife, he would have disposed of me long ago.

And through this all, they watch me. The three times a week I'm allowed out back, one of them is there with me. I'm locked in my room most of the day, but when I'm not - they're watching...always.

The drive to be with my real family again, has kept me going all these years. Their faces are etched into my mind, the memories of six short years hidden from David and Marie, but constantly flowing through my head. I knew they were looking for me when it happened. The only contact I'd had after he took me away, was one sided. I'd find myself watching the news every night, staring into the face of my sweet mother, as she pleaded for my return. My father on television, offering up money, or whatever my kidnappers wanted in exchange for my life. News segments of search parties started - clips of my Uncle Jimmy putting up missing posters around Princeton. Eventually though, the media around my disappearance died down. My fate was unknown. Were they still looking? Would they even recognize me now? Have they moved on?

I was no longer a weak six year old. I realized to have these questions answered, I'd now have to take things into my own hands.

* * *

The day after my birthday started like any ordinary day. For the past couple of years, I'd built a routine for myself. I would wake up before the sun, get dressed and attempt to pick the lock on my door. I knew David and Marie's bedroom was a ways away from mine, if I could get out and be quiet, I stood a good chance of running. I also knew it was impossible for a person to be spot-on every second of the way. One of these days somebody was going to forget to lock the door, and I was just waiting for that precise moment.

Imagine my surprise though, when that very morning, I tip-toed to the door to find it was going to be the day I'd get my chance. I hurriedly grabbed the bag I'd had ready for years ( which contained my journal, my lone picture of my parents I'd managed to find and print off the Internet before David caught me on his computer, my ipod and $1000 I'd saved up) and slowly opened the door. I thought about venturing to the back of the house, to hear if David and Marie were still sleeping, but realized if they heard me, I'd really be in for it. I managed to get downstairs quietly (I have never been so grateful for carpet on the floors, it silenced my steps) and to the front door. I paused - after eight long years of misery, it was now just a piece of wood that stood between myself and my freedom.

I opened the lock and swung the door open. I immediately wished I'd just gone back to bed. Being downstairs so little in the years I'd been here, I'd not realized they'd had an alarm system installed. A LOUD siren started wailing. I bolted out the door as fast as my legs could carry me, and started running down the driveway, and out onto the road. I didn't dare look back.

As I ran through the open gates of our driveway (fate or some higher being was definitely on my side, the driveway gates were mistakenly left open last night) I heard a car start, and the recognizable sound of the engine being revved up. I entered the deserted road and took off running as fast as I could. I noticed a lone jogger about one hundred and fifty yards off in the distance, so I screamed out to him, in hopes that he would be able to hear my distress.

I wasn't able to tell if the person heard me or not, but knowing he was headed this way pacified me for a moment. I decided to stop and catch my breath. I turned around to glance back up the way I'd come. My stomach lurched as I took in the sight. David's black SUV was speeding down the road right at me. I should have run out of the way, but I froze.

The last thing I remember, was the flash of a silver car bumper - and the extreme feeling of pain as it all went dark.


	8. Blue: Wilson

**AN:** I know this is an incredibly mean way to leave a story hanging, but I promise I'll have the next part up sometime this weekend. Enjoy!

**The Road Home: Blue**

I've always been a morning person.

It wasn't until this entire mess started though, that I'd taken up jogging around Princeton. There's just something about the way the morning air feels on your face, as your feet pound down the pavement. I needed the release, these past eight years have been an emotional hell on everyone involved.

* * *

It was a giant shock the day House proposed to Allison. I must have made a right idiot of myself, the way my jaw dropped onto the floor. It look a good three days before I could even look at Greg the same way. I was happy for them, I really was. It was nice to be happy about something again. Julie and I had filed divorce papers and were in the process of fighting over who got the house, who got the cars - it was a nightmare. Their wedding was a bright spot in the middle of all that darkness.

My jaw once again hit the floor when I found out that Allison was pregnant. I tried to congratulate House, and assure him (though I wasn't really sure at the time) that he'd be a wonderful father. I don't think it worked, but I knew he'd be all right in the long run...this could be exactly what he needed to get him to grow up and stop hating the world. I had no doubts once Alexandra came along. The way he'd look at her said it all. I'd never seen that look in my friends eyes before, never seen such pride, such happiness.

House and Allison had asked myself and Dr. Cuddy to be her godparents - I was thrilled.

Allie was a gorgeous child. Everyone who came into contact with her, fell all over themselves. As she got older she began to look more and more like Allison - the same complexion and auburn hair. What drew people to her the most though, was the eyes...she had his eyes. I could only imagine the kind of men House would be beating off with his cane when she was older.

When it came down to personality, Dr. Chase once got it right - she was her father's 'mini me'. From the moment she started talking, she was speaking just like House. She appeared to be a little sweet child, but when that mouth opened - boy oh boy. It pleased House intensely, he once said he now knew what children were for! He worshipped her, she was her daddy's girl...anybody could see it.

It literally destroyed their world when she was kidnapped.

We all threw ourselves into the process of searching. I lost track of the number of missing posters I'd put up. Foreman and Chase had friends that worked in television, and they made sure that the kidnapping got the attention it deserved. We never stopped looking. I missed Allie, so much. I missed walking down to the conference room every morning, to be greeted with a loud squeal of "UNCLE JIMMY!" as she flung herself at me. I missed picking her up from daycare every day, trying not to laugh as I'd hear reports of how bad (or as the daycare teacher put it "Houselike") she'd been. I missed hearing the wisecracks House would tell her to make about my choice in ties. I could forget about my failed marriages around her, and just have fun. It made me wish I'd have tried harder with Julie, had children of our own.

House would barely talk to Allison some mornings at work. It was obvious they tried to continue on like nothing had happened, but it was even more obvious that they were failing miserably. Not a day passed that I'd see Allison without red, puffy, tearstained eyes. I even caught House coming down from the roof one day, apparent that he'd actually been crying. Before I could grab his cane to question him though, he'd shot me a look, pushed me aside and hobbled off. I would later find him in his office, drowning his sorrows in a bottle of scotch.

Things hit their lowest point on what would have been Allie's fourteenth birthday. I was paged by Chase that they were en route to the hospital emergency room, and to get down there ASAP. The EMT's wheeled a gurney inside, and I got the first look at Allison's deathly pale face. A pale faced House followed close behind. House then disappeared, later I'd find, out to the waiting room, where he'd been slumped against the wall with his head in his hands.

Allison had swallowed about twenty four of his vicodin. Chase had been sitting with her that day, and had gone to check on her after she'd been in the bathroom for more than fifteen minutes. He'd found her skin pale and her pulse rapid and immediately called 911 once spying the now empty vicodin bottle. The ER doctors were able to pump her stomach in time. They kept her overnight for observation.

House never left her side the entire night.

It was the next day they'd come to myself, Cuddy, Chase and Foreman and let us know about the ceremony they'd planned on having. They'd talked it through and agreed that we all needed to let her go and move on. I took one look at both of them, the weariness that showed through on their faces and knew it was all for the best.

It was a beautiful little ceremony. We'd said our good-byes, laid this tragedy to rest. We'd made the first steps towards moving on.

* * *

The next day I'd decided to head back to the park we'd all been to the previous day, for a jog. It had been a tough week, I had energy I needed to let out. I drove to the park early, almost before the sun, that morning. After stretching a bit, I set off. It was a beautiful wooded area, we'd been here a few times prior to the ceremony for get togethers Cuddy insisted on holding. Large, extremely tall trees lined the roads - here and there I'd run pass large gates, that I assumed were entrances to houses (this was a particularly wealthy part of Princeton).

I'd turned a corner and started down a rather long stretch of road, houses on one side, forest on the other when I heard a commotion about 150 yards ahead of me. I heard what sounded to be a cry of 'HELP ME' come from a person running down the road. I picked up the pace and broke into a run. About 50 yards away, a large black SUV came speeding out of a set of gates.

I stepped to the side of the road and ran a little closer. It was obvious the car had seen the girl, any driver would have. To my horror, the SUV sped up. I saw the girl turn around to look. I stopped and froze in horror as the car made impact with the girl. She flew through the air, crashing into a pile of rocks that rested by the side of the road. The black SUV was already gone.

Putting my shock aside, I ran the last couple of feet up to the victim. It was a young girl, by glance I'd estimated her to be in her early teens. I was more concerned with her injuries, but I couldn't help but noticed how familiar this girl looked. She had dark auburn hair and was pale as death.

She was unconscious. I whipped out my cell phone and immediately dialed 911, giving them directions the best I could as to where exactly I was. I put my fingers to her neck, and was instantly glad as I felt a weak pulse - she was alive. I whipped off my sweater and used it to wrap around a particularly nasty wound on her right leg, which was bleeding profusely. Her breathing was shallow, and upon inspection, I noticed large bruises starting to form on her chest and abdomen. It didn't take a doctor to realize she most likely had broken ribs and internal bleeding.

It didn't take long for a full blown mess of police officers to arrive, along with the fire department and the paramedics. Explaining that I was a doctor at the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital (she'd been taken to their emergency room, we were only a good ten minutes away), and that I had witnessed the accident - they asked me if I'd like to ride in with them. I agreed immediately.

They worked on her the best they could in the ambulance as I just sat there, staring. I couldn't figure it out. I felt like I'd seen this girl someplace before, she looked so eerily like somebody that I knew. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to think, when I felt something brush against my hand.

I kept them closed as I felt a hand slip into mine. When I opened my eyes I found that the girl was coming to. She opened her eyes and I paled, saying "No...no", causing the paramedic to look at me with some concern.

The only time I've ever seen a set of eyes this blue, was on two people. One of these sets was probably at the hospital this very minute, making somebody feel inferior. The other set, I'd last seen eight years ago - yet here they were, staring at me this very minute.

The girl smiled at me, and I felt her hand go limp in mine. The whine of the heart monitor broke the silence


	9. It Can't Be: Wilson

**AN:** This chapter's kind of short, but I figured I should update...that was a kind of evil way to leave everyone hanging. I'm just trying to do a bit of research so I don't sound like a complete idiot when it comes to medical related things. I'm having a lot of fun scouring my Emergency Medical Technician book in the process (back from the days when I thought I'd like to be an EMT...I'm now pre-med)! As usual, thanks for reviewing (and letting me know I had anon-review blocker on, it's fixed)!

**The Road Home - It Can't Be**

_The whine of the heart monitor broke the silence._

My mouth dropped open as I stared at the portable monitor. I know I should have been more help, but I couldn't stop staring.This was something straight out of a nightmare -I was waiting to wake up and see that it was all nothing but a dream.

Of course, it wasn't a dream. It wasn't more than a moment before I wasthrown backinto reality. I realized in the midst of my staring, the paramedic had secured her airway, and her o2 sats had risen slightly - the monitor had gone back to the steady rhythmic pattern of normalcy. She opened her eyes for a few brief moments, staring directly at me. An obvious head injury brought her back into unconsciousness not five seconds later. Despite the blood loss that was increasing every minute, I thought there was a slight possibility that she MIGHT be alright.

Right now it was just too soon to tell.

I had called Cuddy from my cellphone, in the ambulance after frequent tries to get ahold of House. As we pulled into the ambulance bay, things went haywire. Her heart monitor started beating out of control - tachycardia. The paramedics wasted no time in rushing her through the doors and into the ER. I followed closely behind and stopped when I saw Cuddy approach me.

She asked me what was wrong. Why did I page her to get down here ASAP? Who was that I came in with?

I tried to control my hysterics and sank down into a chair. How did I even begin to tell her what had happened? I grabbed her arm and rushed with her into the trauma room. She was going to see for herself. I needed somebody else to confirm what I was now doubting to myself - I needed to know I wasn't insane.

The doctor on call in the ER approached us as we entered the room. She'd gone into ventricular fibrillation, he said. She flatlined for a minute and a half before they regained a normal heartbeat. She'd come to briefly and started to struggle against the restraints of the backboard, freaking out over her surroundings. Her lung had collapsed and they'd had to put in a chest tube. The list of injuries went on and on and on. I was half listening as I pulled Cuddy over to the stretcher. They were getting ready to transport her upstairs for surgery, so I only had a minute.

As Cuddy approached her, she too paled. She looked at me, and back down at the girl on the stretcher. "It can't be," she said in complete shock. I nodded at her as the doctors rushed in to take her up to the OR.

We just stood there staring at each other when she finally spoke.

"We need to find House"


	10. Match: Cuddy

**AN: I'm not happy with the way the last two chapters have turned out. I'm working on the last three right now, so it might be a few days before I can get those up (I want them to be long, better than the last two). **

* * *

**The Road Home - Match**

House picked the worst day of all to hide from me.

I was unprepared for the complete shock that came this morning. From his phone call this morning, I just assumed that Wilson had witnessed some type of accident, he was riding in with the victim. Leaving out any specifics, he just told me to meet him at the emergency room in five minutes. Never in my wildest dreams did I even realize what was going to happen.

It was five minutes after they had taken her up to surgery that the story began to fall into place. I had sent Wilson off to change (he was still in his ridiculous jogging outfit), and I went to notify the police. I let them know our suspicions and they had immediately went into action. They'd taken fingerprints quickly, as she was on her way up to the operating room. Alexandra had been fingerprinted at the age of four, we were now just waiting to find out the results. It was barely ten minutes later when an officer approached me.

The fingerprints matched.

The hit and run victim Wilson had encountered this morning was not just any teenager - it was Alexandra Anne House.

* * *

As soon as we got word, members of the Princeton Police Department were swarming the hospital. The exits were shut down, for fear that her kidnappers would try to enter the hospital, in hopes to find her. One glance outside showed me that the media had gotten word of everything, the entire entrance to the hospital was swarming with reporters and television news trucks.

There was only one person right now, that I needed to find. There was only so far he could go - especially when one knows how to follow the trail. Look for the crying nurses, follow them and you'll find Gregory House.

I finally found him, peering around the corner on the first floor, looking like he was ready to make a run for it. It was then that he noticed the police officers at the entrance doors, and the media that had gathered. It took me less than a minute to storm up to him and ask him what the hell was his problem, why wasn't he answering any of his phone calls or pages?

I got the classic House excuse ofhim being so famished, he ran out of his office without his cell phone and pager to go on his lunch break. He then wanted to know why the security and the media? "I swear I didn't do anything! I was uhhh, visiting a patient," was the next thing out of his mouth. If the situation hadn't been so deadly serious, the look on his face would have almost been comical.

I just looked at him. It took him less than a second to realize that something was definitely wrong.

He started to get very angry when I asked him where Allison was (on her way to New York, to visit her parents), assuming that there was something wrong with her. How did I tell him? I was at a total loss for words. I gave silent thanks when Wilson appeared. He looked at me in question andasked, "Match?"

I nodded.

Wilson said he'd take House upstairs and explain (House had started to get mad and yell about us keeping things from him), go put in a call to Dr. Cameron.

The last thing I saw upon walking back to my office, was House staring at Wilson as he talked - his cane fell to the floor with a loud thud.


	11. Alive: House

**AN:** Okay, I lied - I had to finish ONE more chapter before I called it a night. This fanfiction stuff is actually pretty fun once you get started!

* * *

**The Road Home: Alive**

I almost laughed at him when he told me.

For a good minute I didn't believe him. Alexandra House was dead. She'd gone missing eight years ago - we'd all gathered to finally say goodbye...he was wrong. How could he try and pull something so unfunny over my eyes? It's a good thing Allison had left to visit her parents in New York this morning - she would have totally slapped him, hearing this nonsense.

I then realized there was obviously a good reason the hospital was littered in police on the inside, media on the outside. Was he actually telling the TRUTH? I hardly noticed as my cane clattered to the ground. A simple nod from Wilson confirmed it. My daughter was upstairs in the operating room, alive, but only just.

I didn't even wait for Wilson as I turned and went as fast as I could to the elevators. My daughter...my sweet Allie - ALIVE. What the HELL had happened though, to land her in the hospital undergoing surgery? Wilson appeared beside me, as we entered the elevator. He said that he would explain it to me when we got upstairs, when I was sitting down.

I sat down, still in shock, when we arrived in the surgeon's lounge. Wilson sat down in front of me and began to explain the events of this morning. The story just got worse and worse - by the time Wilson finished I was already shaking. What kind of bastard runs a child over with a fucking sport utility vehicle? I wanted to kill the asshole. The only problem was, I had no idea who had kidnapped her in the first place. The only peace I got out of the whole story, was knowing the police at this very moment, were conducting a search of every home in the area of the accident. When they found this bastard, he was definitely going to pay.

Allie was still in surgery, so my thoughts wandered to Allison. How do you tell your wife that after eight years, your child has been recovered? No, not dead - but very nearly due to being run over by the man who stole her away? She attempted suicide a few days ago, had only just begun therapy...said goodbye to her child. What on earth was this going to do to her? What would she do if Allie didn't pull through this? Would she herself survive losing her child for the second time?

She was alive. And for the first time in eight years, so was I.

* * *

The two hours I was forced to wait for news, was complete hell.

Cuddy had gotten hold of Allison, who apparently had seemed quite shaken when she picked up the phone at her parents. She didn't even have a chance to let her know what had happened when Allison had yelled, "I'm on my way right now," and hung up on her. I hoped one of her parents was driving her back, I cringed because I'm sure she'd break every traffic law in sight to get back here in record time.

According to Wilson, I nearly mauled the surgeon when he came into the lounge two hours later to talk to us. By this point, everything had finally sunk in and I wanted nothing more than to see my daughter. He said she'd pulled through the surgeries - but had taken almost a liter of blood in the process. She'd been transferred from recovery to the intensive care unit, he'd give me her charts to look over the extent of her injuries on my way up there. I grabbed it out of his hands and partially dreaded looking inside.

The impact of the car did most of the damage. Internal bleeding had resulted in the surgeons needing to remove her spleen. The impact had also caused extensive damage to her right knee that was pretty much repaired through surgery - it would be some time before she'd be able to walk normally. Her left wrist was also broken in two places. Thankfully, there had been no apparent spinal cord damage. She'd broken six of her ribs as she hit the pavement , a displaced one causing a tension pneumothorax. They'd re-inflated her lung and put in a chest tube - her oxygen saturation levels were still very low though, she'd been put on a respirator. The most serious of her injuries was the head trauma she'd obtained upon landing on the pavement. She'd had an altered level of consciousness up until after the surgery, when they realized she wasn't coming out of the anesthesia. A CT scan unveiled swelling around her brain. She was registering around a nine on the Glasgow Coma Scale - fifteen being the score you'd want to see on someone you'd want to wake up eventually.

I think my heart just about stopped while reading her charts. She was still alive, and there was a good chance she'd pull through this, but waiting it out was going to be hell on earth. Allison and I thought we'd been through every parents nightmare with the kidnapping - we were wrong...this had to be worse.

* * *

I was a complete mess by the time Wilson and I made it up to the ICU. Chase met us outside her room, the poor guy looked like hell. It was the same look of pure shock and worry that we were all sporting - even me. I was beyond the point of trying to put up the same facade I'd perfected over the years. My little girl needed me. I had to grab hold of Wilson's arm when I entered her room, I didn't trust my own two feet anymore.

Lying in a mess of wires and tubes, was my daughter. I was at a complete loss for words. Chase and Wilson stood at the doorway, watching me as I made my way towards her bed. The only sound in the room was the gentle hiss of the respirator, as it delivered air into her still, lifeless body. She looked so much like Allison, the same complexion, the same facial features, the same auburn hair.

I sat down on a chair next to her and took her hand into mine. She looked like a china doll someone had taken a hammer to, in a fit of rage. Every inch of her body that wasn't covered in hospital gown or wires was bruised. I tried hard not to show it, but I felt wetness overcome my eyes just looking at her. Eight long years of fighting and constant wondering had all lead up to this - my daughter, back from what we assumed was the dead. Fate has a hell of a way of coming back to kick you in the ass.

I found myself praying to a God I'd never known. "Please...just let her pull through this," I kept saying, "Give me some sign she's going to make it...please..."

The squeeze from her hand was so light, so minuscule - I was positive I'd just imagined it.


	12. Unanswered Questions: Allison

**AN:** _Sorry for the lapse in updating! Finals are now over and I've got a whole month off before next semester (a.k.a. hell, 19 units) starts. The positive feedback on this story has just been awesome, thank you guys for the great reviews. There's one more planned chapter in this fic before I bring it to a close, but I've been contemplating a sequel. Let me know what you guys think, would that be a good idea?_

_

* * *

**The Road Home - Questions That May Never Be Answered**_

Seven stop signs, two red lights, four double yellow lines and twenty-five miles over the speed limit. Marriage to House more than skilled me in the fine art of reckless driving. I never knew that it would come in this handy.

I arrived to my parents house around noon, oblivious that as soon as I stepped inside my life would once again, fall apart. I was doing well, I'd accepted reality, was learning to handle my grief in healthy ways. I had my husband back, was moving on with life. For the first time In eight years, I was actually feeling pretty good.

That was until I turned on the television set.

My father was the one to catch me as I stumbled. I stared into the face of the newscaster as he announced breaking news from Princeton, New Jersey. My eyes grew wider as I listened. My hand went to my mouth as a photo of my six year old little girl flashed on the screen. I left the room, unable to hear what this was all about, not wanting to hear. I knew I couldn't take this.

I sat down at the kitchen table, and pulled out my cell phone to check my messages. I was surprised when I realized that my phone had been off the entire drive up here. As soon as the phone was turned on, it began to ring constantly. "Cuddy", the screen said. Reluctantly, I took the call. I got up to walk around, partly to calm my nerves for what I was about to hear. I was back in the living room when Cuddy told me I needed to get down to the hospital as fast as I possibly could. She paused, waiting for me to say something. In was in this precise minute, that they flashed a NEW photo on the television screen. This photo, was of a teenage girl, who looked exactly like I did as a teenager. I stumbled yet again, and found the strength to yell "I'm coming" into the phone.

I left my stunned parents and my overnight bags sitting in the hall. It took me less than two seconds to get to the car and set off once again.

* * *

As I arrived back into Princeton a couple of hours later, the first thing I noticed was the mass amount of news trucks gathered around the front entrance of the hospital. Wilson scared the hell out of me as he appeared out of nowhere, hopping into my car and telling me to drive around back to the parking garage. I just looked at him, silently pleading for him to explain what the hell was going on. He somehow got my plea, and told me he'd explain, just find a place to park before the media recognizes you.

I found a place to park and sat looking at Wilson, expectantly.

"Alexandra is alive," he said.

I must have been staring at him like he suddenly grew a second head. All I could muster up was, "Excuse Me? WHAT?"

Two minutes of pure disbelief passed before I suddenly realized he was telling the truth. The news reports, the picture of my daughter on television as a six year old, the new picture. I grabbed my hospital ID from the glove compartment, my lab coat from the back seat and most likely set a new record dashing up the stairs. I stopped when I got to the diagnostics floor, and realized I failed to ask Wilson any of the details. She was alive, my God, but where was she? Was she HERE AT THE HOSPITAL? Thoughts ran through my head a mile a minute. I stumbled, ready to fall, in such a state of shock. James caught my arm and lead me to a chair inside the conference room, where he then started to explain the details.

He explained how he'd decided to go for a jog that morning, and how he'd come across a girl running down the road, yelling for help. He told me he'd run towards her, only to stop and see an SUV come from out of nowhere, and hit her. He told me how he'd called 911, rode over with her in the ambulance - it was then that she briefly opened her eyes, grabbed his hand and smiled at him. My heart just about stopped though, when he came to the part about her injuries. I started to shake when I heard she was in a coma. He told me House had been the first one to see her after they'd stabilized her, how she was now responding to verbal commands, squeezed Greg's hand when he started talking.

What I wanted to know more than anything, is if she even remembered us. Would she want to speak to us? She was five years old, taken away from us, and now attempting to come back from a serious trauma, would she be a shell of a person? Would she be the smiling, laughing girl I'd once known? So many unanswered questions, questions in which I feared the answers. The first forty-eight hours are the most critical, I knew if she failed to wake up by then, I might never know.

* * *

Wilson led me upstairs. Foreman and Chase were waiting at the entrance of the intensive care unit, ready to escort me to Allie's room. Foreman, Chase and Wilson walked behind me as I spied the form of House through the glass wall of one of the rooms. Tears streaming down my face, I walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. House grabbed my hand, and I finally turned to face my little girl for the first time in eight long years.

She looked so peaceful lying there. I couldn't believe this was my daughter. I can't even bring forth the words to explain the emotions that were going through my head as I stood there, looking at her. House let go of my hand and went to bring another chair next to his so we could both sit down. For years, I imagined all the things I would say if I ever got to see my daughter again. Right now, I couldn't even bring myself to speak. I took my daughter's hand and whispered her name. That's about all I could get out when the breakdown came, I couldn't help the tears that came rolling down my face. House pulled me into a hug as I continued to sob.

Me and my damn crying, I should have saved it for the centrifuge. It was my noisy crying that made me miss the slight increase of my daughter's heart monitor. It was my crying that made me miss the eyes of Foreman, Chase and Wilson grow wide from the doorway. It was my crying that made me miss the giant smile that had formed on my husbands face.

What I didn't miss, was the weak tug on my lab coat that came from the bed.

I broke away from House's embrace and slowly turned to face the bed. I was greeted with the bright blue eyes of my daughter, looking up at me. Smiling at myself, House, Chase, Foreman and Wilson, she gave a little wave. She pointed at the tears rolling down my cheeks and rolled her eyes. The sound of laughter from House filled the small hospital room.

"Oh there is definitely no doubt about it now - that is SO my daughter," House said, as the rest of the room started to laugh. I wiped some of the wetness of my face and started to as well, now seeing that she was going to be alright.

Allie grabbed my hand, and House's hand and just smiled up at us.


	13. The Road Home: Allie

**AN:** This is it, the final chapter! I'm sorry it took so long to get up, but I've been without internet access all weekend (I guess that's why it turned out so long! I had nothing else to do!). I know I've said it a million times, but thank you for the great reviews. I may continue writing fan fic in this fandom from now on, I really enjoyed this (I'm anxious to try writing a story that isn't a POV story...haha, let's see how something like that turns out - you'll really see how much work I need on my writing then!). I may or may not do a sequel (I need an idea of where i'd take it first), but if you read here frequently (or have me on author alert), you'll see one appear, should it happen. Thank you again!

* * *

**The Road Home**

I thought I was going to die.

Dad always said the experiences one feels during death are part of the brain's process of shutting down - but I don't think so. For what seemed like days, I was caught in a tunnel. This tunnel was long, and dark and filled with people...some running and some walking. At the end of this tunnel, was a bright white light - a light that seemed almost comforting by glance. I wanted to go to this light, I wanted that comfort. Each step I took though, was filled with difficulty - it felt like I was trying to wade through a puddle of glue. I was getting closer to the light when I heard it - my father's voice, begging me to please wake up. I heard my mother, calling my name softly, then crying. As much as I wanted that light, the possibility that I could see my parents again was too great. I heard someone call my name once more.

Suddenly, the tunnel was gone - the people and the light as well. I felt like I was falling, but towards what, I wasn't quite sure.

* * *

They were all there when I opened my eyes.

At first I thought I was dreaming, but the pain was too great for a dream. I was lying in a hospital bed, tube shoved down my throat, apparently a survivor of David's decision to mow me down. My dad was holding my mom (who was sobbing up a storm) and saw me when I opened my eyes. My Uncle Jimmy was standing with my Uncle Chase and Uncle Eric in the doorway, all three of them looking completely astonished, then relieved. How long had I been here?

I was so tired, but since none of them were making any attempt to inform my mom I was awake (ugh, hello guys - SAY SOMETHING) I lightly grabbed the edge of her lab coat and tugged. My mom turned around and saw that I was finally awake and started bawling even MORE. Trying to break the mood, I pointed at her tears and rolled my eyes. I guess it worked, because everyone started laughing after that.

My uncle Chase rushed forward, trying to make sure my vitals were going to hold and whatnot, you know...that rush of "OH MY GOD, IS SHE OKAY?" you always see on medical television shows? I wanted to talk to them so I made notion to Uncle Chase to pull the tube out of my throat. All five of them shook their heads and said they couldn't do that for a couple more days. Well for heaven's sake, somebody GET ME A WHITEBOARD, I thought to myself. I made a writing motion with my hands and my dad went to find a whiteboard I could write on.

My Uncle Foreman attacked with his evil penlight before I could write on the board my dad just brought back. He asked me if I knew who I was, where I was, and what had happened to me.

It's so hard to express proper sarcasm on a whiteboard, let me tell you that.

"Alexandra House, Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," I wrote.

He looked at me in a worried fashion, like I'd already forgotten the last question he asked.

"Don't worry, I may have a concussion, but I'm not retarded," I started writing, "I may be suffering from a lapse of intelligence, but I believe it might have been THE BIG OLD GIANT CAR THAT MOWED ME DOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD, that landed me here, right? If you can't tell, I'm being sarcastic. I hurt - GIVE ME DRUGS SO I CAN GO BACK TO SLEEP."

My dad laughed again and smiled and said something along the lines of "The snark is strong in this one." I was so damn tired, I just wanted a good two months worth of sleep and all this pain to go away. My right leg and my head were killing me. It took not more than a minute for my Uncle Chase to slip something into my IV and I went off once again to the wonderful land of sleep. There would be time for a proper "reunion" later, I thought.

* * *

It was three days before they removed me from the respirator.

I spent those three days in a drug induced haze, waking occasionally to find my mom, dad or Uncle Jimmy sitting with me. The tube was replaced by an oxygen mask, but at least now I could do some talking. I re-awoke after a couple hours asleep, and spied my Uncle Jimmy writing something with his back turned to me. Ipicked up the dry erase marker I'd been using and chucked itat his head, and laughed as his "what the hell?" face appeared.

"Thanks for finding me out there," I said. He smiled and nodded, rubbing the place where the marker had hit him. I think he was wondering who was worse, me or my dad. It didn't matter...I hope he knew I owed him everything. If it wasn't for him, I'd more than likely be dead right now. I asked him to please go find my mom and dad and send them in. He nodded and left.

Now I know I'd made fun of my mom for crying up a river, but mark my words this was going to be the only time I'd follow in her footsteps. Seeing them again was every bit as powerful as the day I woke - it brought tears to my eyes (lots of them...damnit, I gotta get this under control). I must have looked like a right idiot, just staring at them. I was trying to figure out if this too was a dream, if they would disappear as soon as I touched them. It hurt to do so, but I pulled both of them into a hug and just sobbed. It was really them, they weren't going anywhere.

I suppose it must have looked like a picture perfect Kodak moment.Before I couldbreakup this mush-fest with a jokethe police invaded the room, I take it they'd been waiting to question me about everything. My mom told me she had to go back to work, but she'd see me later - my dad was going to stay with me while the police did their questioning. My dad came and sat next to me on the hospital bed, telling them to please take their time.

I looked at him in amusement, and asked him if that was because he wanted all the information brought forth, or was my Aunt Lisa looking for him in the clinic?

Before he could finish calling me a smartass, things took a more serious turn.

The first thing the officer told me, was that David and Marie Williams - my kidnappers - were dead. They found David inside his car, three miles from the scene of my accident. He'd gone off the side of the highway, crashing into a large pine tree. The impact didn't kill him though, he'd done that himself. Upon arriving at the scene of his accident, they found him lying in the passenger seat of the the car. He had a large gunshot wound to his head, a gun lying next to him. A note attached to the dashboard read _"I'm not really sorry, I did this for my wife. She wanted a child, so I provided. When she escaped, I knew this was the end. I took away my wife's misery, and tried to kill the little brat who couldn't stay put. I hope that part of the plan worked."_

When they stormed the home where I'd been living, they found Marie dead on the living room floor, also from a gunshot to the head.

I felt my dad grab my hand, as my breath caught. I felt bad, so bad. She was sick, I told the police - she didn't know any better. They nodded solemnly. I started shaking...this whole thing had been one nightmare, and now that I was awake - the aftermath was starting. My dad wanted to give me Ativan, but I needed to just get this over and done with, shock or not.

They asked me all sorts of questions, over and over. They wanted to know how they'd treated me, if I'd met any members of their family. The questions just went on and on and on till I started growing tired and my leg started hurting again. The finally finished up, asking my dad the extent of the injuries that I'd suffered. There was going to be no trial, since the guilty parties had passed on. The social worker that had been with the police then told me It was custom that I go live with a foster family after my release from the hospital, before making transition back into the world of the living, back into my parents lives.

I couldn't believe this. I was going home with my parents. I told the lady, I was going to do no such thing. I was sad that Marie had suffered (she would have been declared too mentally ill to stand trial had she been alive) yes, but I was glad David was gone and I was home. I'd spent eight long years writing down every single memory of my parents and my life before the kidnapping...I wanted nothing than to be back with them. I was going home with them, I would be fine...they'd make sure of that. She nodded, telling my father they'd be in touch to discuss this.

I was upset by this point. I just found them, and somebody else wanted to take me away from them. I clung to my father and he reassured me that it wasn't going to happen. We'd be at home having cripple fights with each other before long. I couldn't help but laugh...he always knew how to break up the tension in any situation. I let him shoot me up with Ativan and pain medicine and drifted back off into a deep sleep.

* * *

It had approached three weeks since the accident when my doctor announced that I was ready to go home. I looked at the calendar - December 24th. I smiled, realizing that after years of wishing, I'd finally be spending Christmas with my parents.

As the second week ended, I had finally been able to get up on crutches and walk. My concussion had healed, and my ribs as well. The stitches had been removed from my stomach and gone was the heart monitor that had kept me up with it's damned beeping, night after night. My wrist was still broken and my leg was going to be out of order for the next couple of months, but I was assured with physical therapy I'd regain full use of it.

My dad smacked the orderly pushing me downstairs in a wheelchair the day of my release. The guy said it'd be a scary thing, two Houses loose in Princeton - BOTH - with objects good for whacking, notioning at the crutches I was carrying in my lap. I just laughed, not so much from the look the poor guy gave as he got caned from the infamous House, but mainly because I was actually getting out of this place.

* * *

I cried when I entered the house.

A large Christmas tree stood off to one corner, gifts piled a mile high underneath, glowing brilliantly. My Uncle Jimmy, Aunt Lisa, Uncle Chase and Uncle Eric stood next to the roaring fireplace, smiling. They were there to spend Christmas Eve with us, to welcome me back. It was the best feeling in the world, being able to sit down to dinner with my family...my real family.

It wasn't till later that night after everyone had gone, sitting alone on the couch with my mom and dad in front of the tree, that I began to reflect on the events that had gone on these past eight years. I knew I'd be able to put my past behind me now, and move on. I had my family, my real family, ready to help that happen. I was injured, but I was alive...that was the most important part. Even though the past eight years had been a disaster, I smiled, and realized I could be grateful to David for one thing. I was grateful that he ran me over that day, glad that he'd gone off and left me for dead in the middle of that road. Why, you ask?

It was the road that brought me home.

**THE END**


End file.
